A special thanks to all of you who have read the first chapter- I hope you enjoyed. This is my first story so please leave comments and suggestions of improvements. I do not claim ownership- everything is owned by the lovely J.K.R.
Chapter two
Malfoy manor with its impressive interior stood on a large estate, which ended with a high, iron fence and a pair of impassable, massive gates. It was a late August evening and warm, summer air pressed heavily on the ground. Draco Malfoy stood in an almost complete darkness, somewhere in the middle of the garden, his figure dimly lit by the light, escaping from the diamond-paned windows. He strode past a grand, stone fountain, his bare feet landing on the soft grass, making him almost soundless. He wore pajama bottoms and an unbuttoned, white shirt, but he was not worried he would run into anyone. He was the only soul on the Malfoy manor grounds tonight.
His mother had gone, as did her sister Bella, who was staying in the manner since the incrimination of his father. Ever since Lucious was dragged from their home by the aurors, their house stripped down by those damn fools from the department of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, the house has been silent. Even his mother's cries in the middle of the night quieted after a few weeks, and left a tired, almost empty shell of a woman behind. Bellatrix's presence was supposed to ease his mother's suffering, but Draco thought his aunt made things all the more difficult for her. She was erratic, almost unstable at times, and only a few hours ago, they had another of their arguments. Draco could hear their muffled hisses and retorts from his room, as two women paced up and down the corridor. He could guess what the scuffle was about. They left soon after that; he watched them from his windows, one dark-hooded figure chasing another.
As distressed and upset his mother seemed to be concerning the task the Dark lord had given him, Draco felt different about it. He saw is as opportunity rather than punishment, whatever it was meant to be. And there was something else he was feeling, though he had not addressed this at loud. Pride. Pride that the Dark lord had chosen him… chosen him above all others… chosen him even though he was not even of age yet.
He paused for a moment, lifting his left hand's sleeve to his elbow. On his inner forearm was a thin, dark red mark, carved as though with a knife; a colossal skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. Draco ran his long, white fingers across his paper thin skin, still remembering the burning sensation as the dark lord pressed his wand up against it. He was branded as the true member of the inner circle, among all of the Dark lord's most trusted followers. How could he not feel the thrill, the excitement?
He retreated to the manor some half of an hour later, in the shelter of cold, stone walls, which soothed his heated, sweaty skin. He snapped his fingers with his hand, held high in the air and a small, battered looking house elf materialised from the thin air in front of him.
"Make me a plate and have it brought to my room with a glass of wine," said Draco coldly and strode past the creature, up the grand staircase on the second floor. He didn't know the elf's name, nor did he care- his mother kept changing them lately due to their unsatisfactory service and Draco didn't bother learning their names.
As he walked into his room (a spacious, darkened place with a large, king-sized bed in the middle of it), he heard a quiet knocking on the high window. He saw a handsome screech owl perched on the narrow ledge, with a letter tied to her leg. He crossed the room and opened the window, letting the bird fly in and hold its leg in the air. As he relieved her of the letter, she stretched her wings, hooted loudly and took of into the night. Draco broke the purple wax seal bearing a large H and opened the letter. He scanned the list of new books he will need for the new school year as well as a new cattle and some potion ingredients and…
He sat on his bed, frowning slightly. Now that the letter came, his mother will want to make a trip to Diagon Alley, for it was only a week left until he left for the Hogwarts. This was as good of a time as any to go through the final details of the plan he had in stored for the trip. For the last weeks he had pondered almost daily on all the different ways he could have achieved the task the Dark lord had given him. At first he crossed out the most obvious options, such as passing the protection line on foot or on a broomstick. Firstly, they were bound to have tighten the security over the summer now that the Dark Lord's return has gone public. Draco was almost sure that, in addition to stricter regulations of the students exiting the castle, there will probably be a few aurors patrolling the castle and the grounds as well.
But there had to be a better way, a smarter way to get the mudblood out of the school, he knew it. And then, just a few days ago, he remembered the story of a cabinet Montague had told him in the hospital wing last year after he had found him splintered in the bathroom. It had only taken a few hours of searching through the maner library for Draco to find everything about the so called Vanishing Cabinet, which apparently acts as a passage between one cabinet and it's sister. It had taken even less of a time for one of the house elves in their employment to discover that the only known cabinet of such talents was in the one and only- Burgin and Burke's shop.
Draco's strain of thought was interrupted abruptly by the clatter when the house elf appeared in the room, three plates filled with food and a goblet of red wine, purchased on his head.
"Will mister Malfoy want anything else tonight?" asked the elf with a squeaky voice, bowing to his master.
"No, go away," snarled Draco, annoyed about the interruption, and drank a sip of wine.
He had fallen asleep very late that night, lying on his pillows, pondering on how he would escape his mother's firm clutch to visit the Borgin and Burke's shop in the Diagon alley while the heavy, summer air blew softly through his open window.
